If your (male) spouse might be interested to explore and/or share his story of child loss, please visit my good friend's outreach site: www.grievingdads.com.
B and I met Kelly (the author of the site and the project) and Christine in 2006 at a support group meeting. They are now two of our best friends and we are so proud of the work Kelly is doing to bring light to the often hidden pain of fathers, in memory of his daughter Katie and son Noah.
Check it out...
Showing posts with label friendships lost and found. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendships lost and found. Show all posts
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Short rant
Why does everyone seem to think they are immune to tragedy? Or, at least the kind of tragedy in which one's own child dies. Tonight I sat with two old friends who couldn't have been more certain about the outcome (living, screaming, perfect baby) of a current pregnancy at 15 weeks. I am not sure how they can be so aware of what happened to B.W., and yet not see how fragile and uncontrollable life is. Is it possible to be so smug without realizing it?
What a sad thing for YOU. YOU obviously had a problem - good thing they "figured it out" in time for C.T. It couldn't possibly happen to ME. These weren't the words used, but that's the message I got.
Maybe I am being too harsh. Perhaps they do understand at some level that they are not immune. And maybe they are outwardly confident in order to con themselves into positive thinking.
All I know is it really hurts; torments me. Unrelenting ignorance in the face of my day to day reality. It makes me feel so little. So damn unique. So powerless and unheard. Even ignored. Smoothed over as if he didn't exist.
***************************************************
Tomorrow will be better. I will again try to connect with people even when they disappoint me. I think I need to mentally affirm this, again and again, to coax myself to do it.
What a sad thing for YOU. YOU obviously had a problem - good thing they "figured it out" in time for C.T. It couldn't possibly happen to ME. These weren't the words used, but that's the message I got.
Maybe I am being too harsh. Perhaps they do understand at some level that they are not immune. And maybe they are outwardly confident in order to con themselves into positive thinking.
All I know is it really hurts; torments me. Unrelenting ignorance in the face of my day to day reality. It makes me feel so little. So damn unique. So powerless and unheard. Even ignored. Smoothed over as if he didn't exist.
***************************************************
Tomorrow will be better. I will again try to connect with people even when they disappoint me. I think I need to mentally affirm this, again and again, to coax myself to do it.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Dinner with friends
B and I drove Saturday night to a small dinner party. Just six of us - all of us parents of dead children. The hosting couple lost both a daughter and a son in 2004 and 2006 respectively. The other couple lost their daughter in 2006, the same year we lost B.W. What a blast, right? Hanging out with other bereaved families is our idea of a good time?
I remember sitting in a support group meeting for the first time with both of these couples. I was so strangely relieved to see other kind (and broken) faces in the room. Sitting there, bawling our eyes out, sharing our love for our sweet boy, we learned we were not alone. It was the first time I felt any real relief from my total and complete devastation since B.W.'s death several weeks before. I was not the only mother who was without her child. My body wasn't the only failure out there. Our primal ache to hold our child and our endless flow of tears - these were all familiar to the other parents in the group. It was so comforting. I had no idea two of the couples would become friends. And at the time, I couldn't fathom that the six of us would ever laugh and truly live again.
On Saturday, two years and 2-3 months since we first met, the conversation flowed so easily between jobs, the economy, wine, our children (alive and dead), the weather, vacations, basement refinishings, our grief, our family and friends' support (or lack there of), God and heaven, our lives before and after we lost our child(ren). There was laughter. A LOT of it. There were tears. And it was so comfortable. None of the topic avoidance or egg-shell walking or sugar coating that we so often find with most everyone else in our lives. We all recognize how different life is when you've lost a daughter or son. We know that we have come a long way but that getting back to "normal" will never happen for us. We actually like the people we have become.
I am so thankful for these friendships - the women in particular. I am not sure I could go on in the ways I have without them. They are my respite from the elephant in the room who is always following me around. They listen to me, really hearing me. They feel my pain with me and don't even attempt to hide from it. They call or write to say they are thinking of B.W. on his birthday and during holidays. They remember I have two boys - all the time - and recognize I love them equally. They know it's hard to live in a world that for the most part doesn't understand and doesn't care about the loss of my son.
So, yes, it WAS a blast on Saturday night. I love hanging out with other bereaved friends who are on a journey to embrace their new lives, dead child(ren) and all. I never feel more content to be in my own skin than when I'm with these friends.
I remember sitting in a support group meeting for the first time with both of these couples. I was so strangely relieved to see other kind (and broken) faces in the room. Sitting there, bawling our eyes out, sharing our love for our sweet boy, we learned we were not alone. It was the first time I felt any real relief from my total and complete devastation since B.W.'s death several weeks before. I was not the only mother who was without her child. My body wasn't the only failure out there. Our primal ache to hold our child and our endless flow of tears - these were all familiar to the other parents in the group. It was so comforting. I had no idea two of the couples would become friends. And at the time, I couldn't fathom that the six of us would ever laugh and truly live again.
On Saturday, two years and 2-3 months since we first met, the conversation flowed so easily between jobs, the economy, wine, our children (alive and dead), the weather, vacations, basement refinishings, our grief, our family and friends' support (or lack there of), God and heaven, our lives before and after we lost our child(ren). There was laughter. A LOT of it. There were tears. And it was so comfortable. None of the topic avoidance or egg-shell walking or sugar coating that we so often find with most everyone else in our lives. We all recognize how different life is when you've lost a daughter or son. We know that we have come a long way but that getting back to "normal" will never happen for us. We actually like the people we have become.
I am so thankful for these friendships - the women in particular. I am not sure I could go on in the ways I have without them. They are my respite from the elephant in the room who is always following me around. They listen to me, really hearing me. They feel my pain with me and don't even attempt to hide from it. They call or write to say they are thinking of B.W. on his birthday and during holidays. They remember I have two boys - all the time - and recognize I love them equally. They know it's hard to live in a world that for the most part doesn't understand and doesn't care about the loss of my son.
So, yes, it WAS a blast on Saturday night. I love hanging out with other bereaved friends who are on a journey to embrace their new lives, dead child(ren) and all. I never feel more content to be in my own skin than when I'm with these friends.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Dread
I am meeting an.... ex-friend... I don't know what to call her, really... for coffee tomorrow. She was woefully unsupportive the first year after B.W. died., even going as far as to say that his death is less than comparable to the potential death of her "living" child. I won't go into the details, but I suppose in her mind my son was less of a son, or my grief is less worthy because he lived such a short life. Maybe she believes because I have so few memories of him that it somehow hurts less that he is absent.
Really? How fortunate for her that she can be so naive.
Needless to say, I had avoided her like the plague after this transpired.
She called right as C.T. was to be born. I was still in heavy mourning mode and juiced up on fear that C.T. would also die. I didn't have the energy to "fight" her, or tell her to get lost, so we talked a bit. Cause, you know, it was a "happy time" for me - so she was okay with that. She has called me probably 3 times in the last year -- all relatively pleasant conversations perhaps from her viewpoint, but extremely forced for me.
She invited me to her (2nd) bridal shower. I think we must cut the crap. But, I'm not good at confrontation. I've had a stomach ache all week. We'll see how this goes.
Really? How fortunate for her that she can be so naive.
Needless to say, I had avoided her like the plague after this transpired.
She called right as C.T. was to be born. I was still in heavy mourning mode and juiced up on fear that C.T. would also die. I didn't have the energy to "fight" her, or tell her to get lost, so we talked a bit. Cause, you know, it was a "happy time" for me - so she was okay with that. She has called me probably 3 times in the last year -- all relatively pleasant conversations perhaps from her viewpoint, but extremely forced for me.
She invited me to her (2nd) bridal shower. I think we must cut the crap. But, I'm not good at confrontation. I've had a stomach ache all week. We'll see how this goes.
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